Jimmy Olsen's Blues
by InNeedOfSaving
Summary: Oneshot, inspired by the Spin Doctors' Jimmy Olsen's Blues. A day in the life of Jimmy Olsen.


4-16-07

**Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, of course. And the song and inspiration belong to the Spin Doctors. Enjoy!**

Jimmy Olsen's Blues

_I don't think I can handle this_

_A cloudy day in Metropolis_

_I think I'll talk to my analyst_

_I got it so bad for this little journalist_

_Driving up the wall and through the roof_

_Then I see Clark in a telephone booth_

_I think I'm going out of my brain_

_I've got it so bad for little Miss Lois Lane_

_Lois Lane, please put me in your plan_

_Yeah, Lois Lane, you don't need no Superman_

_Come on downtown and stay with me tonight_

_I got a pocket full of kryptonite_

_I got a pocket full of kryptonite_

_I got a pocket full of kryptonite_

_He's leaping buildings in a single bound_

_And I'm reading Shakespeare in my place downtown_

_Come on downtown and make love to me_

_I'm Jimmy Olsen in a tie, do you see_

_He's faster than a bullet, stronger than a train_

_He's the one that got lucky, got to keep around Miss Lois Lane_

_I can't believe my dilemma is real_

_I'm competing with the Man of Steel_

_Lois Lane, please put me in your plan_

_Yeah, Lois Lane, you don't need no Superman_

_Come on downtown and stay with me tonight_

_I got a pocket full of kryptonite_

_I got a pocket full of kryptonite_

_I got a pocket full of kryptonite_

_Oh, Miss Lois Lane_

_Oh, got a pocket full of_

_I don't think I can handle this_

_A cloudy day in Metropolis_

_I think I'll talk to my analyst_

_I've got it so bad for this little journalist_

_Lois Lane, please put me in your plan_

_Yeah, Lois Lane, you don't need so Superman_

_Come on downtown and stay with me tonight_

_I got a pocket full of kryptonite_

_I got a pocket full of kryptonite_

_I got a pocket full of kryptonite_

_Got a pocket full of_

When I woke up this morning, I looked out my window and saw gray skies.

_Yuck_, I thought. _Another cloudy day in Metropolis._

I seriously considered just staying in bed, because I knew that nothing good would come of today. But I could just hear Mr. White's voice bellowing in my head.

_Where were you, Olsen? You couldn't have been sick. You don't look sick. Think you can just skip a day whenever you feel like it? I oughta dock your pay for that!_

Well, I knew that he wouldn't be that harsh, but he also wouldn't look too kindly on it. And besides, I really didn't want to be put on coffee duty, which would probably be my punishment. I've paid my dues when it comes to juggling fifteen double lattes for my unappreciative co-workers.

So, I lazily pulled myself out of bed, took a shower, got dressed, and fixed some cereal. As I sat eating my corn flakes, my mind drifted to a certain pretty brunette who works in the bullpen at the _Daily Planet_.

She always brightens up my day, no matter how sour the look on her face is or what sarcastic quip she throws toward me. I can tell that she has some sort of affection for me, and as much as I would like it to be romantic, I know it's more of a kid brother kind of affection. But that doesn't stop me from dreaming. After all, how could you not love a woman like Lois Lane?

She stayed on my mind as I rode the metro to work. I remembered how she had playfully punched me in the shoulder yesterday and asked me to get her a cappuccino from the deli down the street. Yeah, I hate making coffee runs, but for Lois, I would do them everyday. My eyes glazed over as I smiled dreamily.

Apparently I was staring at the gentleman across the row from me, a gruff-looking man who barked, "What the hell are _you_ lookin' at, bub?"

Sufficiently shaken out of my reverie, I grinned sheepishly and apologized. He still glared at me, though, from what I could see while carefully avoiding anymore eye contact. Thank goodness he got off at the next stop.

My mind was still wandering when I got to the lobby of the _Planet_, so much so that I almost ran straight into the subject of my dreams, Miss Lane herself. It would have been terrible, too, because she was carrying a precariously-perched pile of papers and files. She called out loudly, which brought me back to Earth, and I came to a screeching halt inches from her and the pile. I looked at her in horror and began apologizing profusely.

"Oh my gosh, Miss Lane, I'm so sorry!" I began, but she quickly silenced me.

"It's no problem, Jimmy," she said, rearranging a few papers that had shifted. "But did you not have your coffee this morning or something? Your eyes looked dreamy and unfocused before you noticed me."

"I'm just a bit out of sorts today," I said simply. It wasn't quite a lie. How could I tell her that I had been imagining what our first kiss might be like?

Thankfully she accepted my excuse as she struggled to free a hand to push the elevator button.

"Oh please, let me," I said, reaching over to push the call button.

"Thanks, Jimmy."

Then we stood in silence, waiting for the elevator to come, watching it descend as each floor number lit up on the panel above the door. I glanced over at her. As the numbers flashed, her brown eyes glowed, like small stars were twinkling in them. I quickly glanced away before she caught me.

When the elevator arrived, I held the doors open for her and made a grand gesture for her to enter before me.

"Thanks," she said as she entered. I followed her and pushed the button for the fifteenth floor. We stood in silence for the first couple floors, until she broke the silence.

"So, Jimmy," she said, "you like Shakespeare, right?"

"Yeah, I do," I said, smiling that she had remembered that detail from a conversation we had had almost three months ago. I use "conversation" lightly; she had been trying to come up with a headline for a story on twins being mistaken for each other. I suggested, "A Modern _Comedy of Errors_," and when she asked how I had come up with that, I told her that I had read a lot of Shakespeare.

Maybe my chances weren't so bleak. "Why do you ask?" I asked. Maybe she was going to ask me to a performance of a Shakespeare play at the civic center. Or maybe she was trying to think of something to get me for my birthday next week. Or maybe she wanted to invite me to her place for a little "Shakespeare reading." I smiled at the thought.

"Well," she said, "I heard about an exhibit at the Metropolis Museum of original drafts of some of Shakespeare's plays that have just been released to the public." Did she have tickets? Was she going to invite me to go with her, and maybe go out for dinner afterwards and a moonlit stroll in Metropolis Park? I liked that thought even better. I looked at her, trying to cover my hopefulness with polite curiosity.

She shrugged. "I thought maybe you'd be interested to know."

I waited a second more for the invitation to attend with her, but it didn't come. So glancing down and away from her, I quickly replied, "Oh. Yeah. That sounds interesting. I'll definitely look into it. Thanks for the heads up."

She smiled. "What are friends for?"

_Friends._ When it came from her, that word always hit me like a ton of bricks. I unsuccessfully fought the grimace of pain on my face, and when she showed signs of concern, I played it off as a muscle cramp.

"Must have…slept on my…leg wrong last night," I said lamely, reaching down to rub my thigh to rid it of the phantom pain.

"Well, I hope it gets better soon," she said sincerely as the elevator stopped at our floor.

She exited and I followed a few steps behind her, still a little disappointed. As I looked up, I saw Clark rushing from down the hallway, oblivious to the presence of anyone else around him, his nose stuck in a manila folder. I tried to call out to Lois to stop, but I couldn't get the words out.

Luckily, though, Clark must sensed upcoming disaster, because he paused right before he would have collided with Lois. He didn't even seem alarmed that he had almost knocked the file tower onto the floor. He closed the manila folder and smiled brightly at her.

"Good morning, Lois," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Here, Clark, take these," she said in greeting, depositing the files into his arms.

He grunted under the weight. "Of course. Where do you want them?"

"If you could sort through them and bring me all the files relevant to the Welling case, that would be great." She glanced at her watch. "By ten, do you think?" She looked up at him and smiled. But it wasn't the same kind of smile she gave me or even Mr. White. There was genuine affection in this smile, and a twinkle in her eye as she looked at Clark.

I've known for a long time about Clark's crush on Lois, but I never thought much of it. She always seemed to treat him the same way that she treated me, like something of a page boy. But lately, something seemed different. The glow I had seen in her eyes as she watched the illuminating numbers had returned, and was brought on entirely by looking at Clark.

He returned her warm smile as always. "Of course, Lois. By ten."

She placed a hand on his arm. "Thanks, Clark." Then she walked over to her desk and pulled out her notepad to review the previous day's notes.

I stood behind Clark for a few moments, both of us rapt. I don't think Clark noticed me, because when he whispered, "Isn't she something," and I answered, "Yeah, she is," he jumped and looked back at me.

"Oh hey, Jimmy! I didn't see you there."

But I was used to being ignored. When she didn't need me to run an errand for her, Lois ignored me too, for the most part.

"Morning, Mr. Kent," I said, walking over to my desk and depositing my coat and umbrella.

I thought he had followed me toward his own desk, but when I looked back to ask him for a pencil, I saw that he wasn't there. The strangest thing, though, was that the pile of papers was on his desk, and the top few were floating slowly to the floor, as if someone had left in a great hurry.

I immediately ran over to a window that overlooked the street. I knew he would be coming soon. He had to.

Sure enough, seconds later, I watched Clark exit the building and jump into a phone booth. When he emerged, he was wearing that unmistakable red and blue suit. Then he took off into the sky, much to the amazement of the passers-by around him, who pointed after him and chattered amongst themselves, star-struck.

I figured it out a while ago. It's the only thing that makes sense. Clark misses so much work, but he always has the information for his stories. And he always seems to go missing when a huge story is happening, one in which Superman inevitably shows up to save the day. It also helps explain why Lois is starting to grow fond of Clark.

I've thought about telling Lois about Clark's double life, but I can't. For one thing, I doubt that she would believe me without any kind of proof, and what proof could I get? I could shoot Clark one day in the bullpen so Lois would see the bullet bounce off his chest, but that would get me arrested. Not to mention, Lois would either hate me or think I'm insane. And besides, I could never betray Clark because he's one of my best friends, which is probably a sad thing, considering I never see him outside of work, super-heroics not included.

Even if Lois did find out, how do I know what she wouldn't take to Clark that much more? She's the kind of woman who would initially be furious at being lied to, but I have a feeling that those baby blues and bulletproof muscles would soon bring her back around. Superman always has that kind of effect on women: they positively swoon over him. Maybe he gives off some sort of alien pheromone that drives human women crazy.

_Why him?_ I thought to myself, slumping down into my chair. _ What does he have that I don't? Well, besides super-strength and super-speed…and heat vision…and super-breath. Besides all that, what does he have that I don't? The most important thing: Lois' heart._

I glanced over at Lois, who had turned up her police scanner at the sound of commotion. A smile crossed her face when she heard Superman's name mentioned.

"Olsen!" Mr. White screamed from his office just then. "Why aren't you downtown? There's a stand-off in an abandoned furniture warehouse on 6th and Gable. Superman's doing his stuff and I want pictures!"

Sighing heavily, I grabbed my camera and extra zoom lens and left the bullpen. I wasn't in a huge rush to get to the warehouse, so I lazily pushed the lobby floor button to the elevator. Just as the doors were inches from closing, an arm jammed itself between them, forcing them back open. Then Lois' face appeared.

"Wait, Jimmy, I'll go with you. I need to be there to write the story."

She was all smiles as she entered the elevator and allowed the doors to close. I tried to return her smile, but it came out as another grimace of pain.

"Is your leg still bothering you?" she asked, entirely more focused on seeing super-Clark in action than any pain I may or may not have.

"A little," I said.

The cab ride to the warehouse was silent. As we neared the warehouse, though, we heard someone talking on a megaphone and calls from the warehouse. We exited the cab and saw Superman standing by the police cars, trying to negotiate with the men inside.

"Listen," he was saying as we flashed our press badges to the officer guarding the yellow police line from rubber-neckers, "let the hostages go free and your sentence will be lighter. If you don't, I will be forced to remove them myself and your term will be lengthened for kidnapping."

But the men inside were adamant about keeping them until they got what they wanted. When we approached the police officer, we learned that the brother of the one speaking had been arrested for robbery, falsely, according to the gunman.

"Promise me that you will release Sam or the woman gets it."

With that, Superman was obviously through with negotiations. He disappeared in a flash and reappeared seconds later with three people, a woman and two men, all very frightened but unharmed. Superman began calming them down and ushered them over to the waiting ambulance, where they could be checked out by the EMTs.

Gunshots then began ricocheting all around us. I pulled Lois down behind the police car as a bullet zoomed over where we had just been standing. Though it was very intense at the moment, I couldn't help but notice that I was practically lying on top of Lois. She didn't look particularly scared, but I felt like a sort of superhero myself right then, protecting the damsel in distress.

Then the bullets stopped zooming over head and began making clinking metal on metal noises. I peeked around the car and saw Superman advancing toward the warehouse, careful to catch each bullet so none would come back toward the police cars. Lois soon joined me in watching and her eyes grew wide with admiration.

Within minutes, the men inside had been rid of their guns, handcuffed, and thrown into the back of the police car. Lois and I got back to our feet as the policemen thanked Superman for his help and got into their cars to take the men to the station.

That's when Superman saw Lois and me.

"Are you two all right?" he asked us, placing a hand on each of our shoulders. However, he addressed it more toward Lois than toward me; his eyes were carefully trained on her, checking her for injuries.

"I'm fine," she said, covering his hand with her own. For a second, I thought that she might give me credit for knocking her to the ground just in time, but she just continued to stare at him dreamily, probably as I had stared at the man on the subway.

Tired of being ignored, I pulled away from Superman's grip, and he let his hand drop, barely noticing my movement. I watched them a moment longer, pleading with Lois with my eyes.

_You don't need him, Lois. He could never give you what I could. I would always be there for you, not constantly running off to save the world. You wouldn't have to share me with anyone. And I would never hide anything from you. Let me love you, Lois._

But I knew it was fruitless. There was no way I could ever hope to compete with the Man of Steel. It was like trying to outrun a bullet; the bullet would always win. Unless you're Superman, of course. In that case, Superman would always win.

Whether with glasses on his nose or a curl on his forehead, whether in an ill-fitting jacket or a red cape, he would always win.

So, as I crawl into bed tonight, I might have resigned myself to the fact that I'll never have Lois Lane's heart. But that doesn't mean that I can't dream about her and wish that I could be the one that she dreams of.

I fall asleep and dream of glowing green rocks.


End file.
